Dick wanted to die. No. He longed for death, every ounce of his being craved for that final darkness to come. That release from all mortal troubles and fears. Unfortunately, his wish was never allowed. Over the years he had come within inches of his heart's desire, only to have it snatched from his grasp at the last possible second. Dick had lost track of how many times he had been thrown into a Lazarus pit, or injected with some healing serum, or had his soul pulled back from the brink by magical means.

No matter how useless or unresponsive he became, they never let him die. So the boy languished in his cell, without any hope of being rescued from his miserable existence. Or so he thought.

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Deathstroke leaned back in his chair and folded his hands carefully on the desk, his single eye fixated on the screen in front of him. The video feed showed a young boy crouched in the corner of a dark cell, his small fragile frame shaking slightly, his arms encircling his legs in a feeble attempt to stay warm.

The boy would be the perfect apprentice, Deathstroke thought. All he needed was a little incentive, and Deathstroke knew exactly what he needed to do to provide that incentive. He was going to call in the Justice League. (AN: I really thought that it would be fun to end it here, but it wasn't anywhere near long enough)

No, he was not going senile in his old age. It was the perfect plan if you thought about it. Give the League some slight hint to make them send someone to check out the old castle that he was currently staying in, let them fight some of his henchmen to make it seem like there was something, or someone, important hidden there, which there was of course, but the idiots that made up the Justice League did not know that. Then all they had to do was find the boy and take him into their custody.

It would take a while for the child to recover, probably months just to physically heal, and then there was the mental and emotional damage too. Deathstroke would have to be patient if he wanted to reap the full benefits of his plan, but he could not work with the boy in his current condition, and any attempt to get through to him could cause further damage to his already fragile mind.

It was common knowledge that good guys were better with kids then bad ones were. Why go to the effort of trying to do something you knew you could not do when there was someone you could manipulate into doing it for you?

Deathstroke's reasoning was flawless. Besides, if it did not work, then there was no harm done. He could easily take the boy back and try something else.

With that thought in mind, Deathstroke sent the Justice League an anonymous tip giving away the location of his hideout. Now all he had to do was wait.

AN: I apologize for this taking so long. I was sick all week, and am still not completely better yet. Do you ever feel completely drained of energy and end up staring at something for like an hour without actually doing anything? I have been like that for the last couple of days, so if this chapter didn't make that much sense it was because I was having trouble focusing on anything. Sorry. You should be happy to know that you all take preference over my Latin homework which I am currently trying to avoid.